


Learn You Inside Out

by Saperli_Popette



Series: Sunlight in a Jar [2]
Category: Iron Man (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man: Homecoming (2017), The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Age Difference, Daddy Kink, M/M, Not Avengers: Infinity War Part 1 (Movie) Compliant, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, slight praise kink
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-02
Updated: 2018-05-02
Packaged: 2019-05-01 08:16:31
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,042
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14516187
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Saperli_Popette/pseuds/Saperli_Popette
Summary: Peter has beenpracticing.(It's a PWP. There's not that much else to say.)





	Learn You Inside Out

**Author's Note:**

> While this is technically a sequel to "you know how bad boys get," it'd work just fine as a standalone PWP. It was written to a prompt someone gave me when I sent her a plea for "fluffy prompts, *please*, I'm dying," from the movie theater after the IW premiere. 
> 
> It's not IW compliant. I'm really okay with that.
> 
> \--
> 
> This author welcomes concrit. This author is also able to distinguish between "concrit" and "being a fucking troll," and will mock the shit out of you if you try the latter.

Peter had been doing research. 

Okay, maybe it wasn't research in the strictest academic or scientific sense. 

Maybe, in fact, it was more like watching a lot of online porn, but he'd been taking notes, so that totally counted. (Come to think of it, he wasn't going to tell Tony that he'd been taking notes on porn because sometimes, contrary to popular belief, Peter was capable of _not_ making himself look like an absolute dork.) 

No, he'd just keep his research to himself until the appropriate time. 

That time hadn't come quite yet. Right now, they were still mostly dressed, lying on the bed in Tony's apartment--Peter still didn't really think of it as “Tony's bed,” because he knew how little time Tony actually spent in the place when he wasn't with Peter. He sometimes almost let himself think of it as _their_ bed, even though he'd never managed to spend a night there yet. Maybe when he was in college, and Aunt May wouldn't know whether or not he ever made it home at night. 

Well, Peter was lying on the bed. Tony was mostly lying on Peter, kissing him thoroughly while Peter took advantage of the position and happily groped Tony's ass, just because he could. There'd been a lot of _couldn't_ this week; Tony had been in the R &D labs at Stark Industries when Peter was there for his internship, and that had meant a lot of Tony keeping a noticeable distance from Peter. He'd always been on the other side of the table, or across the room, or angled so that there was no way that he and Peter might accidentally touch one another. 

There'd been a lot of calling one another “Parker” (or, even worse, “kid”) and “Mr. Stark,” too--which, granted, they sometimes did here, too, but here, it was a lot more fun. There, it had just been a reminder that they had to be careful, because nobody could know about them yet. Not until Peter was older--even though he was seventeen, and technically old enough, Tony was probably right that most people weren't going to understand. 

But right now, he could touch Tony however he wanted--well, as long as Tony didn't mind, and Peter hadn't yet found anything that he wanted to do that Tony _did_ mind--and he planned to take advantage of that. 

Tony kissed him again, the kind of long lingering kiss that left Peter whimpering and squirming underneath him. 

“That's better,” Tony said a minute later, a little breathlessly. 

“What is?”

“You, paying attention. For a minute there I thought you'd lost interest altogether.” 

Peter frowned and ran his hands down to Tony's upper thighs. “I'm pretty much always interested. Even when I'm not supposed to be.” He raised his head off the pillow, chasing after Tony's mouth to kiss him again. “You wouldn't believe how hard this week has been.” 

Tony raised an eyebrow. “I wouldn't? I did spend the past four days watching you try not to drool or spontaneously combust.” 

That was--okay, that was fair, but it wasn't like he was the only one. “Did you know that this vein right here in your forehead--” Peter abandoned his groping for a moment to trace it with his finger-- “kind of throbs every time I say your name just right?”

“That's ridiculous.” 

“It really isn't, _Mr. Stark._ ” Peter was wrong, though, because the vein didn't throb; instead, Tony kissed him again, hard and possessive, until Peter felt kind of wobbly from it. 

“Okay,” Peter conceded, aware that his voice was shaking a little but not able to actually care. “Correction: it only throbs if I say your name like that and you can't do anything about it.” 

“Damn right,” Tony agreed, and kissed him again. 

“And now here we are, and you can do all kinds of things about it,” Peter added hopefully. 

“I could, yeah,” Tony said, moving his attention to Peter's ear. Peter hadn't even realized that ears could feel that good, but then, there were a ton of things he hadn't actually realized felt good before a couple of months ago. Being with Tony was a crash course in unexpected things that felt really good. Peter couldn't wait until he moved up to the advanced class. 

Peter made some kind of embarrassingly pitiful noise when Tony nibbled gently at his earlobe. “Why don't you?” 

“You know the deal.” 

Oh, yeah, their deal. The deal where Tony still worried about being a creepy old guy hitting on a high school student, so if Peter wanted something, he had to ask for it. Out loud, using actual words, because Tony kept insisting that if Peter couldn't say it, he wasn't ready to do it. So far, he'd held Peter to that, too, as frustrating as that could get. 

Peter sighed. “Could we, um. We could start with less clothes?” At least Tony didn't expect him to be really precise with what he asked for. 

Tony grinned down at him. “That works.” He sat up on his knees, straddling Peter's thighs, and took off his shirt. “Pants too?” 

Peter nodded. “Yes, please.” 

Tony moved over so that he could get out of his dark gray dress pants. Peter was pretty sure he was staring, but he couldn't make himself care. He hadn't managed to get used to this yet--to the idea that this was _really happening_. He was a dork, and yet he was dating--secretly, but it totally counted-- _Tony Stark._

Who, Peter was frequently reminded, was also a huge dork a lot of the time--which was honestly pretty great.

When Tony was back on the bed next to him in his underwear--Peter was definitely too smooth to look down at the outline of Tony's cock, at least not very _much_ \--he looked Peter over, frowning a little. “What about you?” 

“What about me, Mr. Stark?” 

Tony chuckled. “Oh, okay. That's how you want things?” 

Peter shrugged. He did, he definitely did, but not _exactly._ That was what the research, or “research,” had been for. 

“You seem to be a little overdressed. Is there anything you want to do about that?” 

He nodded again, and got up to take off his t-shirt and jeans. Then he just stood by the side of the bed, trying to look confident and sexy, like a guy in a porn video. “Is this--” he began, his mouth suddenly dry. _Confident and sexy_ , he reminded himself. Also, Tony teased him a little (okay, a lot), but he never actually _made fun_ of Peter. Even if this didn't go over well, it'd be fine. 

Clearing his throat, he tried again. “Is this better, Daddy?”

When he dared to look up at Tony, he got to see something he'd always thought was impossible: Tony Stark, speechless. He was definitely speechless, not just quiet, because Peter could see his lips moving, but there wasn't any sound coming out. 

After a second or two, Tony swallowed, hard enough that the movement of his throat was clearly visible, and found his voice again. “Fuck, that's hotter than I imagined.” 

Now it was Peter's turn again to struggle to get words out. “You-- I've been trying to psych myself up to call you that for _two weeks_. You could have said something!” 

Tony rolled his eyes at Peter. “Yeah, right. You can't see why I might have been reluctant to tell my _teenage boyfriend_ that I'd really like him to call me 'daddy'?” 

Fine, that was a good point. “So it's all right? You don't mind?” 

Tony grinned at him, a warm, wicked-looking grin that made Peter's skin feel hot all over. “Honey, come back up here and let your daddy show you just how much I _don't_ mind.” 

Oh. 

Oh, _god_. 

Porn had not adequately prepared him for this. 

Fortunately, the rush of blood in the opposite direction of his brain still left him with enough of a clue that he could scramble onto the bed, nearly tripping over his discarded jeans in the process. Once he was up there, Tony reached out and wrapped Peter in his arms, pulling him in close before kissing him. 

Tony's mouth was hot on his, and Peter gave way instantly when he felt Tony's tongue against his lips. The kiss was definitely intense, but kind of... nice? That was a dumb word, but Peter didn't know what to call it. All he knew was that between the kiss and Tony's arms around him, he felt safe and loved (not that they'd ever said anything like that, and Peter kept reminding himself not to expect it) and oh, yeah, also _really_ turned on. 

Tony let go of him, and Peter couldn't stop himself from whining in protest. Tony chuckled. “It's okay, baby,” he said. “I'm just going to get more comfortable.” He moved up to the head of the bed, leaning back against the pillows, and then patted his thigh. “You can come back now if you want.” 

Right, _if_ he wanted. Because there was a way that he wasn't going to want this. He settled himself on Tony's lap, wrapping his arms around Tony's neck, and kissed him. “You can keep calling me that,” he mumbled. 

“What, 'baby'?” Tony grinned. “Or 'honey'? What about 'Daddy's good boy'?” He caught Peter's mouth in another kiss, muffling Peter's moan. 

“All of that,” Peter said. Then, a little self-consciously, “Is that what I am?” 

“Good, mine, or both?” Tony was still smiling at him, but it was getting that softness around the edges, the one that was why Peter didn't mind having to sneak around and lie to his aunt and pretend they barely knew each other, because it meant he could have Tony look at him like that. “Because it's definitely both.” 

Peter let out a shaky breath. “Okay,” he said. “I mean, not okay. No, not 'not okay,'” he added rapidly, “I mean not _just_ okay, way better than okay, awesomely okay, look, I don't know what I'm saying at this point.” 

“You are looking a little flustered,” Tony said. He should know; he was definitely looking Peter over from head to toe, with very obvious focus on Peter's--equally very obvious--erection. “Is there anything I can do to help out?” 

He nodded eagerly. “Please, Daddy,” he said, licking his lips a little nervously. Just because calling Tony “daddy” felt good didn't mean that it didn't also feel kind of weird, at least right now. “Please touch me,” he added. 

That made Tony smile again. He cupped Peter's face in his hands for one more kiss, then let his hands slide down, running over Peter's shoulders, his upper arms, then over to his chest. Peter arched his back as Tony lightly pinched his nipples, rolling them between his thumbs and forefingers. 

“Oh god,” Peter gasped. “God, please...” 

“You really are sensitive, aren't you?” Tony's voice was soft. “Show me how much you like it when I touch you.” 

Peter threw his head back, whimpering helplessly under the relentless touch. It felt like every touch was sending electric shocks straight to his dick. “I always do,” he said. “Please, Daddy, I need--” But he ran out of words, trailing off into silence. 

“Tell me,” Tony said, when it was clear Peter wasn't going to finish his sentence. “You know how this works. Tell your daddy what you need, and I'll give it to you. I always do.” 

It was true, but Peter's thoughts were stuttering, trailing off into sparks as Tony pinched and rubbed and teased, and he couldn't make the words come out clearly. Instead, frantically, Peter grabbed one of Tony's hands, dragging it downward and pressing it against the spreading damp patch in his underwear, just over the head of his cock. “Daddy, _please_ ,” he said again. Tony liked to tease him, and Peter usually liked it too, but not tonight. Not after days of frustration, and not before Peter had had a chance to come at least once. “You know I can't--”

“I know,” Tony said, kissing him. “Daddy's going to make it easier for you to be good.” He took Peter's erection out of his underwear. “It's not your fault, after all; you've just got raging hormones and all those heightened senses, and it makes things so hard for you, doesn't it?” He grinned, his hand closing around Peter's cock. “And yeah, that pun was intended.” 

Peter would have rolled his eyes at that, but Tony had started to stroke him, and it felt too good for him to complain about a bad joke. But there was a nagging doubt in his mind, one he kept finding difficult to shake. “You don't--it doesn't bother you, does it, that I need...” 

“Oh, fuck no,” Tony answered immediately. “I can't keep up with you. I don't think I could have kept up with you when I was seventeen, since I don't have your senses _or_ your stamina, but I sure as hell can't do it now. But that doesn't mean that I don't absolutely love taking care of you when you need it.” He smirked. “Hey, I've got a hot guy less than half my age in my bed, begging for me to touch him. It's incredibly good for my ego.” 

Then he kissed Peter again, and it didn't matter what Tony said, Peter knew--or at least, was pretty close to sure--that this wasn't about his ego. “So don't worry, baby boy,” Tony murmured against his mouth. “Just let Daddy take care of you.” 

Oh, god, that was just--that was exactly what he needed, and he pushed up into Tony's hand, moaning. “Yes, please, Daddy, _yes_.” He was already close, and he'd be embarrassed about that except it didn't matter, because Tony was still touching him, fast and steady and with all his energy and intensity turned on the single issue of making Peter come. 

Tony stroked Peter's hair with his free hand. “That's right, baby, just give in to it. You know how much I like watching you come. Can you do that for me?”

Peter nodded frantically, desperately; what he couldn't do, right now, was _stop_ himself; he was too close now. “Yes, Daddy,” he said again, before Tony's fingers touched him in just the right way and Peter came, his hands curled tightly into fists so that he didn't clutch at Tony and leave bruises. 

Afterward, Peter twined his arms around Tony's neck, burying his face in Tony's shoulder until he felt less shaky. A moment later, Tony's arms went around him, holding him tight. “That's my good boy,” Tony whispered, and Peter raised his head to smile at him. 

“I _was_ good, wasn't I?” 

“And modest,” Tony said; Peter could feel the rumble of suppressed laughter in his chest. 

“Well, if I was good, then I can ask for a reward,” he argued, and now Tony didn't even try to hold back his laughter. 

“I take back everything I said about you being good for my ego. I would have thought what we just did was its own reward.”

Peter grinned. “Okay, yeah, it was, _but_ I know we're not done for the night.” He wriggled in Tony's lap, positioning himself so that Tony's erection was pressed against the cleft of his ass. “And you know that thing we tried last week?”

“What, the tako sashimi? All this to tell me you want to get Japanese food?” Tony's face was pressed against Peter's hair, but Peter thought he could feel Tony smiling. 

“Not that!” Peter protested. “What we did _after_ that.” 

“Peter--”

“I know, I know,” Peter said. He took a deep breath. “I want to do the thing again where your fingers are inside me,” he finally got out. “And, uh, maybe more, this time.” 

“Are you sure?” Tony's voice was steady, but Peter could hear that he was breathing faster. “You know we don't have to do that again any time soon. Or ever, if you don't want. We can both have a lot of fun even if we never--”

“I _want_ to,” Peter said. God, his voice broke in the middle of it, that was so embarrassing, but at least maybe it would help convince Tony that this wasn't just something Peter thought they ought to do, or thought Tony expected of him. “I've been thinking about that a lot this week. I've been _practicing_ ,” he blurted out. 

Tony had had his mouth open, probably to argue, but when Peter said that, he shut it again and just looked at Peter for what felt like an unbelievably long time, while Peter tried to will himself to spontaneously combust. 

“You've... been... practicing,” Tony said slowly. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath. “Jesus, you're going to put me in the hospital, I swear.” 

Peter couldn't quite tell if that was a good or a bad reaction--he thought probably good, because Tony was still hard against him, but-- “I'm sorry?” 

“Oh, no. No, you don't get to be sorry about this. Not unless you refuse to tell me exactly _how_ you've been practicing. In that case, yeah, I'm going to ask for an apology. Written. At least five pages.” 

Peter relaxed. Okay, this was fine. This was _good_. 

Well, except that he was going to have to tell Tony what he'd been doing in his room at night. “I, um. I bought some lube,” he said. He was probably over-explaining, but at least he was getting words out. “And I've been, you know. Putting my own fingers inside. I worked up to three last night.” He watched Tony's face at that; Tony's eyes fluttered closed for a moment, and he could hear the sharp hiss of Tony's breath. 

Peter was never really sure what Tony saw in him, exactly, but whatever it was, there was absolutely zero way to doubt that Tony saw it. Not when he reacted like that. 

It made Peter feel bolder, so he added, “I was going to go and buy something, um. Something bigger, but I didn't have a chance yet.” It'd be easier to order it online, but he'd have to ask Aunt May for her card number, and she'd ask questions. There were a lot of things he could tell his aunt, but “I want to buy sex toys” wasn't one of them. Even if he didn't add, “so I can practice for when I have sex with Mr. Stark.” 

“We can,” Tony started, and then cleared his throat. “We can do some shopping later, if you want.” 

“Maybe later,” Peter agreed. “I just wanted--like I said. My fingers are good, but--well, you're bigger.” Tony's fingers were bigger, too, thicker than Peter's own, so Peter had known it wasn't going to be nearly enough. But oh, it had been good, and he wanted so much more. 

Tony took Peter's hand, looking at his fingers. Peter knew what Tony was picturing him doing with them; he was thinking about it himself, for that matter. He held up his first three fingers, keeping them close together. “Like this,” he offered. 

“You're unbelievable,” Tony said, shaking his head slightly. “Absolutely amazing.” 

He shrugged. “I just wanted... It felt good, but mostly I just want to be, you know. Ready.” 

“You'll be ready when you're ready,” Tony said. “But if you want to try again tonight, I'm absolutely not going to complain.” 

Peter thought “try again” made it sound like the last attempt had been a failure, and it hadn't. It had been awesome. He'd just started tensing up, and couldn't make himself relax, so they'd stopped and gone on to do something else. But that was why he'd been practicing, so that wouldn't happen again today. 

“I do. I promise.” He smiled up at Tony again. “Please, Daddy?” 

Tony gave him a quick kiss. “Let's get you out of these, then,” he said, running a finger along the waistband of Peter's underwear. Peter started to squirm out of them, then let Tony pull them off the rest of the way. 

He wound up half-sprawled over Tony's legs; before sitting up, he took the chance to twist around and place a few kisses on Tony's inner thighs. Then he turned himself the right way around on the bed. 

“I take it you're ready?” Tony said, but he didn't get started. He kissed the corner of Peter's mouth, then worked his way down his jaw and throat, while his hands smoothed over Peter's hipbones. “I like you like this,” he murmured; if Peter hadn't had good hearing, he probably wouldn't have been able to make the words out. “All spread out so I can look at you. I have to spend so much time pretending I don't notice you.” 

There wasn't any question of that now; Peter felt like Tony was determined to kiss or touch every inch of him--at least, almost every inch; he wasn't going anywhere near Peter's cock. Tony's beard tickled a little as he moved down to Peter's stomach; Peter laughed and squirmed a little, but when Tony started to move away, he shook his head. 

“No, don't stop. It just tickles.” He didn't want Tony to stop. He could look at Tony like this, too, didn't have to pretend that he barely knew him, just as the guy funding Peter's internship--or as another superhero, when Peter was safely behind his mask, but couldn't risk getting distracted. 

Tony didn't stop until Peter was trembling with anticipation, his nerve endings feeling like they were on fire. He was already getting hard again, despite Tony's diligent avoidance of that particular area, and eventually Peter gasped, “Please, T-- please, _Daddy_. You promised me.” 

“And you've been very patient, baby,” Tony agreed. “Can you lift up your hips for me?” He grabbed a pillow from the head of the bed and put it underneath Peter when he obediently raised up. 

Tony got the lube from the drawer beside the bed, pouring it onto his hands and rubbing them together to warm it a little. “Pull your knees up?” 

Peter did; it left him feeling exposed, almost helpless. But it was just Tony, and he was safe with Tony. If he'd had any doubt about that, it would have vanished with the way Tony looked at him. 

Then Tony's finger--still a little cold, but not too bad--was rubbing against him, urging tight muscle to loosen for him. Peter willed himself to relax, remembering how much easier his own explorations had been when he did. 

“That's good, baby, you're doing so well,” Tony said, and Peter let out a deep breath, letting his muscles slacken further. “Oh, perfect.” 

And then there was pressure, and the burn of muscles being stretched, and then a feeling of fullness. Peter looked up at Tony, his eyes wide. “I can feel you in me, Daddy,” he said softly, just to see the way that Tony's expression suddenly went intense and heated. 

“ _Good_ boy,” Tony said. “Just try to stay relaxed.” And then Peter felt Tony working his finger deeper inside him, opening him up further. 

Peter did his best not to tense up, and he thought he succeeded pretty well, but he didn't know how anybody was supposed to be _relaxed_ when Tony was doing that to him. 

“Good, you're perfect, you're beautiful,” Tony murmured. “Can you take another finger, do you think?” 

Peter nodded. “I think so.” 

“Do you want to try? We don't have to.” 

“I want to, though. I like it,” he added, feeling his face getting hot. It didn't quite feel good, not right now; it mostly felt weird, but there was something just at the edges that left Peter convinced that it was _going_ to feel good if they just kept going. That was how it had worked when he'd done this to himself, anyway.

Tony smiled. “Say the word and I'll stop in a heartbeat,” he promised, and Peter nodded again. 

“I trust you.” 

Tony shook his head at that, but he didn't argue. Sometimes he did; sometimes he tried to talk Peter out of this, out of _them_. Peter was glad he wasn't doing that tonight, because Peter didn't feel like arguing. He just wanted this. 

Peter groaned when Tony's finger left him; he'd just been thinking that it felt strange, but now he felt empty without it. “Shh,” Tony said. “Daddy's going to take care of you.” 

More lube, more rubbing his hands together to warm them up, and then Tony's fingers were back again, pressing into him. “Breathe,” Tony said. 

Peter nodded, taking slow, deep breaths and concentrating on staying relaxed. Tony's hands weren't all that big--his fingers were thicker than Peter's, but hardly huge. But right now, they _felt_ huge, too big to possibly fit inside him. 

But Peter kept breathing, kept focusing on letting Tony in, until he felt Tony's knuckle slip past the ring of muscle. There, it was getting easier to bear already, and any minute now he was sure that it was going to start feeling good, because Tony was inside him. Tony was as close to him as it was possible to get, and that was what Peter wanted, that was what he _always_ wanted even if Tony didn't always think he should have it. 

Tony was holding absolutely still, frowning down at Peter. “Are you okay?” 

“Yes,” Peter insisted. “Just hang on a minute.” He realized that the hot, prickling sensation behind his eyes was actually tears, and wiped them away impatiently. “I swear, I'm fine. It doesn't hurt. It's just... a lot.” 

Tony looked skeptical, but he didn't pull away. He didn't move his fingers yet, either, only bent down and kissed his way up Peter's inner thigh, until Peter relaxed more and his body adjusted to the intrusion. 

Tony's kisses were getting very close to his hand, and that thought left Peter with a hot, squirmy feeling in the pit of his stomach that he was definitely going to have to think about later on, but right now he was just starting to get impatient. He tried pushing against Tony's fingers, just a little, and that was good, so he tried it again. 

“Ready for more?” Tony asked, not lifting his head; Peter shivered at the heat of Tony's breath and the rasp of his beard against sensitive skin. 

He nodded again. “You can move. Please. I'm okay now.” He still had the feeling that he was likely to start crying again, but it wasn't from pain. He just didn't know how to explain to Tony what it _was_ from without spilling out a lot of stuff that, well, was not the kind of stuff that they said to each other. At least not yet. Maybe sometime. 

Tony started to move, working his fingers in and out of Peter, spreading them deep inside Peter's body to stretch him open. That felt amazing enough, but then one of Tony's fingers found just the right spot inside him, and the jolt of sensation sent Peter's hips bucking wildly. 

Tony smirked at him. “Good?” 

“Uh-huh,” was all Peter could say, weakly. Tony must have liked that answer, because he raised himself up so that he could kiss Peter. 

He kept working his fingers inside Peter, brushing against that spot every now and then to make Peter gasp and squirm. After a little while, Peter's hand went to his cock, stroking it slowly while Tony seemed determined to drive him completely crazy with what he was doing to Peter. 

“Can we keep going?” Peter asked. 

“I don't know if you're--”

“I'm ready,” he insisted. “Please, Daddy.” 

“Oh, God, don't pout at me,” Tony grumbled. “You know I can't stand it when you do that.” 

“I'm not pouting!”

“The hell you aren't,” was the reply, but Tony clearly wasn't really annoyed, because a minute or so later, a third finger joined the others. 

“Oh,” was the only thing that Peter could say; “ _Oh_ , oh God, Daddy, yes.” 

Tony's voice was strangely soft. “I'm so proud of you, baby, you're doing so well. I wish you could see yourself like this; you look so pretty, all opened up for me.” 

Peter could feel his face getting hot--he couldn't seem to stop going red when Tony talked to him like that, even though he liked it--but Tony was also nudging against that spot inside Peter that made his cock throb, and so he couldn't bring himself to mind. He just concentrated on breathing, and on the way Tony felt inside him, and that odd gentleness in Tony's voice that was almost too much for Peter to stand. 

But as good as this was, and as much as Tony's fingers filled him up, it still didn't feel like quite enough, once Peter got used to the additional stretching. He found himself raising his hips to meet every thrust of Tony's fingers, fisting his cock with greater urgency, but he had to bite his lip to keep from begging Tony for more, because he didn't know what he wanted to ask for. 

Tony didn't miss anything, though. “Is there anything you need, baby boy?” 

Peter nodded helplessly, but didn't say anything. 

Was there something knowing in Tony's smile, or was Peter just imagining it? “And do you want to tell me what it is?” 

He shrugged. How was he supposed to explain to Tony that as awesome as this was, it wasn't enough? Especially when he didn't know what _would_ be enough, or how to ask for it? “I don't know.” 

Tony's smile widened. “I bet I do.” He lowered his voice; it got that rough edge to it that always made Peter shiver. “You need something more than my hand, don't you?” 

Sometimes, when Peter was working on homework, he got stuck on something for a moment, and then he looked at it in just the right way, and there was a sudden feeling of rightness as the solution clicked into place. That was what this felt like, and he almost sighed in relief. He knew the answer to this. “Yes, please,” he said. “Please, I need you. I need you _in me_ ,” he breathed, just to watch Tony react. 

Tony licked his lips again and nodded. “Anything you need,” he promised. “But I'm going to have to stop this--” He crooked his fingers inside Peter, and Peter moaned, loudly enough that he was glad there wasn't anyone around to overhear. “--for just a minute.” 

“I know.” Peter tried not to protest when Tony's fingers left him. 

“You can probably reach the nightstand better than I can,” Tony said. “Can you get--in the drawer, there's a box of condoms.” He started pulling down his own underwear. 

He had to look away to do it, which was a little annoying, but Peter got the drawer open and tossed a condom packet in Tony's direction.

“Thanks.” 

Peter watched him eagerly as he put the condom on and applied lube. That was going to be inside him soon. His stomach clenched a little in anticipation. He'd had Tony in his hand and in his mouth, but this was so very new. Tony had kept telling him they didn't have to do this, which had been great when he'd been a little freaked out about it, but now he just wanted to argue that yes, they did, right now, _please_.

Tony moved between Peter's legs again; Peter pulled his knees up a little more, and Tony nodded approvingly. A moment later, Peter felt something big and blunt press against him; he breathed out and tried to let his muscles go slack, but Tony didn't go any further. 

“Is this what you need, baby? Daddy's cock inside you?” 

Peter tried so hard not to whimper that he wound up biting his tongue. “Yes!” 

“Okay,” he said. “Tell me if I'm hurting you.” 

Even as much as Tony had stretched him beforehand, it did hurt, a little, but he wasn't going to admit it. It wasn't bad. It would be all right soon, anyway. Tony was going slowly, giving Peter plenty of time to adjust, and kissing Peter again and again, whispering encouragements against his mouth. 

“So good, Peter,” he murmured. “You're doing so well, just let Daddy take care of you.” 

Once Peter felt like he was ready for it, he pushed against Tony's cock the way he had against his fingers, whimpering when Tony took it the way it was meant, as a plea for him to _move_.

“How does this feel?”

“Good?” That wasn't the right word, but he didn't think there was a right word. It still hurt a little, but it was feeling better by the moment, having Tony in him like that. “Good,” he repeated more definitely. “Please don't stop, Daddy.”

With every roll of Tony's hips, Peter rose up to meet him, his hand moving faster on his cock. 

“I want to be inside you when you come,” Tony said--not quite a question, but Peter nodded. He wanted that too, wanted to come around Tony's cock. He was getting close now, he could feel it, and with Tony thrusting deep into him, Peter knew it wasn't going to be long before they both got what they wanted. 

“ _Yes_ ,” Peter hissed, arching his back as he came, painting white streaks on his stomach and Tony's. 

Tony leaned down and kissed him _hard_. “Such a good boy,” he whispered, and Peter closed his eyes for a moment, basking in it. 

Then Tony resumed his thrusting, groaning as Peter clenched tight around him. “Let me feel you,” Peter asked; he still wanted everything Tony could give him, and surely he wouldn't deny Peter this. 

Tony nodded, breathing hard. “Soon,” he said. 

Peter clutched at him, running his hands over Tony's back, down to his ass. “Please, Daddy,” he urged, feeling Tony's body still for a moment before he came, and Peter bit his lip again to keep from blurting out everything he was feeling. 

Tony was saying something; Peter could feel Tony's lips moving against his skin, but couldn't hear any words. He didn't repeat himself, though, just lay--half on Peter, half on the bed--mostly still until his breathing slowed and Peter couldn't feel Tony's pulse pounding under his skin. 

After a little while, Tony pulled out of him and got rid of the condom. He lay back down on the bed, tugging Peter closer to him. “You doing okay?” 

“Doing great,” Peter said. “Really great.” 

“Yeah, you're probably going to be sore in the morning, if not before.” Then he paused. “Or maybe not, since you heal up faster than normal.”

He grinned, resting his head on Tony's shoulder. “That'll be convenient. I should go out on patrol before I go home.” His suit was in his backpack, and he didn't feel right about not putting in at least a _little_ time out in his neighborhood, since that's what May thought he was doing. 

“Staying for dinner?” Like he had to ask. They'd fallen into a fairly regular habit for their--way too infrequent--nights together. They had sex, or fooled around, or sprawled on Tony's couch and kissed while Tony showed Peter what he'd been working on. Then they cleaned up, if necessary, and Peter worked on his homework while Tony ordered food. (Peter wasn't allowed out of the bedroom while they were waiting for the delivery, and it always made him feel a little sick because of how much trouble Tony would be in if anyone found him there.) 

Then, usually way too soon, Peter would head home, changing into his suit the first chance he got so that he could do some patrolling on the way. He couldn't wait until he was out living on his own and could come back here after he was done, at least some of the time, if Tony didn't mind. 

God, he hoped Tony wouldn't mind. 

“Yeah,” he said, “I'm staying. You can't get rid of me that easily.” 

“I noticed,” Tony said, and Peter knew that he didn't mind at all.


End file.
